Sinful Love (Sinful Nights #4)(30)

The woman was like a sexual jack-in-the-box. Wind her up and she exploded beautifully, like diamonds shattering into brilliant pieces. What would she sound like when he tasted her for the first time? How would she move beneath him?

The water pounded his shoulders as he took his dick in his hand. He stroked, slowly at first, and then as desire started to pulse, he tugged faster, imagining sliding his cock into her wet heat.

He’d jacked off to the vision of Annalise more times than he could count, but never in recent years. He’d denied himself that pleasure. Or really, that pain. He’d successfully shoved her out of his mind the day she unintentionally broke his motherf*cking heart in Marseilles. The shield had gone up, the walls had risen, and he’d resisted all thoughts of her.

Not now.

Not when he was seeing her again.

Not when he was sure she wanted the same thing he did. She wanted him, and hell if that wasn’t the hottest thing ever.

As the water poured down his back, his fist curled tighter.

He breathed out hard, a rough, gritty exhale as his hand worked faster and his mind replayed the dressing room. She’d melted into him, but it was more than that. She vibrated—like she was on some other frequency, strung tight, hot, and desperate. The way she’d gripped his hand, rubbing up against him, f*cking his fingers, drove him crazy then and consumed him now.

The image stirred up lust all through his body, as carnal pleasure built low in his gut. He groaned as the water pounded mercilessly. His muscles tightened everywhere, his quads tensing as his hand flew up and down his dick. God, he wanted her. Wanted to know how it would feel to strip her to her lacy panties then rip them off. Kiss her, taste her, lick her, f*ck her, take her.

His breath raced fast from his lungs, release in reach.

Right now, under the water, in the privacy of his own home, he was free to say her name, to imagine her face, to picture her as he came.

Later, as he lay in bed, he told himself that this reunion was temporary. It was one day, one moment, one chance. Then he’d move on.

He almost believed it.





CHAPTER FIFTEEN


Eighteen years ago

Something didn’t quite add up. Thomas was no expert, but as he finished writing up his log of rides for the day, he grabbed last week’s list to make sure he had the correct spelling of the client. But the man’s name had been erased, as if the ride Thomas had given him to the airport didn’t exist.

He leaned back at the table in the break room and scratched his chin. Why would a ride suddenly go missing? He opened the binder and thumbed through the last few weeks. Here and there, a few others were missing, too.

Flipping to the red tab, he checked out some of the other drivers’ records. He remembered his buddy Sanders, who was a mechanic for the same company, had been pulled in to handle a few airport rides. None of those were listed, either.

He shook his head as if he could make sense of the missing info that way. Maybe he’d mention it to Paul, who ran the operations and oversaw all the drivers. Bringing attention to a discrepancy would surely put him in a good light, what with the potential for promotion on the horizon. Paul would have the final say in hiring him anyway. The owner lived and worked in another state and so was never on site.

Thomas finished filling out the details, clocked out, then got into his car to head to his daughter’s dance performance. Dora was meeting him there with the boys, except for Michael, who’d been studying at Becky’s house with Annalise. As he arrived at the auditorium, he spotted Becky’s car and saw his oldest son walking into the event center with his arm draped around his girlfriend. Michael leaned in and planted a kiss on her cheek. As they strolled inside, Thomas pictured them like this a year or two from now, in college, going to a play or a concert, happy together.

But something was missing. Something was off. He rubbed the back of his neck, then an idea slammed into him. Something Michael would need. Something besides money. Not wanting to forget, he grabbed the notebook he kept beside him in the center console and wrote down his thoughts. Tomorrow, he’d make some calls, set things up for Michael. For now, he closed the notebook and headed inside to watch his daughter dance.

*

The next day when he filled out the log, he noticed more rides had pulled a disappearing act. As he packed up, he rapped on Paul’s door, figuring now would be a good time to let him know. This would show initiative, that he cared, that he had the company’s best interests at heart.

Paul furrowed his black eyebrows when Thomas mentioned the missing rides. “That so?”

“Yes, sir.”

Paul nodded and then smiled, a professional sort of grin. “That’s good to know. Really appreciate you bringing this to our attention. We’ll get it fixed.” Then Paul pointed a finger at him, like a gun. “That kind of attention to detail will get you far.”

Excellent. That was everything he wanted. To go so much further.





CHAPTER SIXTEEN


Three-f*cking-thirty in the morning. Not when he wanted to be awake. Not when he wanted to be dealing with shit. But when the alarm sounded that there was trouble with one of their clients, Michael bolted.

He flew straight out of bed, into his clothes, and to the client’s site. He was closer than Ryan, so he called his brother and said he’d handle the incident. White Box, a gentlemen’s club, was just a few blocks off the Strip, making it just a few blocks from Michael. He pulled into the lot, parked his car, and ran a hand through his messy hair.